Madu's 50th B-day Bash

Madu's 50th: The Birthday Bash to end all Bashes

It started in the morning, when the ladies from the Segou women's cooperative came, and were immediately put to work making donuts for the afternoon. It was quite the production, considering the size of the operation, and the open-air quality of the kitchen! Naomi and Alex joined in the fun, while Maria and I made a run to the grocery store, to make sure that the muslims and the non-muslims had the appropriate libations to celebrate. We bought 5 cases of coke/fanta, 2 cases of beer, and 20 litres of "chapolo" --locally produced millet beer (especially for the balafon players) --not to mention a couple of bottles of champagne to go with the cake! Later in the morning, another group of women arrived, but none of the locals seemed to know them well. It turns out they were a group of griotes (traditional praise singers), invited by the Segou women to help animate the party. They were hungry when they arrived, and Maria got her number one helper, Kafuneh (who we lovingly called "Cinderella" --though that's a longer story), to pull together a quick breakfast of coffee, bread and porridge. However, right when Kafuneh got back from the bakery with the bread, the cook announced that lunch was ready! So, the next thing we knew, we were all sitting down to big bowls of rice and sauce.

Griotes and Praise-Singing
Then shortly after lunch, amplifiers got plugged in, and the "stage" was set-up for the music. The griotes came out of the "dressing room" in beautiful gowns, adorned with lots of gold, and pretty soon the music began. Griotes ("jeli-ke" or "jeli-muso" in Bambara) are traditional praise singers and oral historians, and at any Malian celebration, their role is to honor the attendees by reminding each person of their familial lineage through song! At this party, the first song went to Maria's husband, Ibrahim Keita, as he is the "du-tigi" or "chef de famille" and official host. Keita is THE royal family in Mali, kind of like Kennedy, and so Ibrahim's story linked him right back to Sundiata Keita, the founding king of the Mali Empire! The next song was to Maria, as it is because of her work in education and women's development that we were all there. And then came my turn.

When your song starts, it usually starts pretty slow, almost like a ballad, as the griote sets the context. Then, she keeps heaping on the praise, telling the world of all the great things you have accomplished in life, and how you are such a great representative of the family clan. As this is happening, you sit there and soak in all the praise, taking it in in as dignified way as possible. As the griot sings, people are coming over to you, and raising your hand, an acknowledgement that what the griote is saying is true. Then, at some point, you just can't take it anymore, and you rise up and start dancing. Not wildly yet, but slowly and rhthmically, as the praises are still coming. As you start dancing, others join in with you, forming a sort-of conga-line dancing behind you! Still, people keep coming up to you to raise your hand, and at some point, someone gives you a shawl, which means, "you best be getting ready to boogie!" Then, the drum tempo picks-up, and at this point, you either go back to your seat in a dignified way, indicating that you are too old and/or cool to dance, or, you approach the drums and start to shake, rock and roll! And if you don't do the shaking, then some of your most loyal friends, and/or best dancers, will be out there shaking it up in your honor. On the right is a picture of the griote's last pleas and praises, before I couldn't take it anymore, and got up to dance. And the video clip below gives you a sense of what followed:


Rockin' Balafons

Before we had left for our trip to the North, I told Maria that I wanted to have some "balafons" at the party. While the griot music is appreciated by the elders, the more traditional folks, balafon music has a more universal audience. The tunes are very rhythmic, and not really directed toward one person, so they encourage everyone to get out there and shake it up! So after a couple of hours of the griotes, the balafons got set up. There were two balafons, and about six back-up drummers (and of course, the 20-litres of chapolo to keep them well-lubricated). The balafon music got everyone dancing, and by this time, the compound was packed with neighborhood kids and folks, who had heard the music and had to come and take part.

Of all the people who were dancing, by far the most energetic dancer was an old lady who Maria called Filani which means "twin." Filani is a neighbor, who makes a bit of money selling traditional medicines. It turns out that Maria's mother, who is a real character and party-animal, told Filani about the party, because she knew how much life she would bring to the party. She was right. From the moment Filani arrived, that is, once she put down her try of herbs, she was on the dance floor. The scene below captures a little of the action. As you will see, at one point one of the Griotes puts a shawl around a little boy, a sign of honor, encouraging him to shake it up with Filani. It was a great moment of inter-generational learning. Filani is in the green boubou, her energy was infectious:

The Real Party
The real party was supposed to begin at 7:00, but when 6:00 rolled-around, the compound was still packed with folks. So Maria made an announcement, asking all the folks from the neighborhood to kindly leave until the evening festivities would begin. She did it in a beautiful way, letting everyone know that they are not being chased away, but that we just needed to make space for the invited guests to have dinner! She told everyone to come back once they heard the music begin again!

We had about 60 people for dinner: roasted sheep, potatoes and vegies, served on large platters. Maria had bought plastic tables that were set-up in the courtyard, and all the "invitees" were able to sit at tables for the dinner. The guest list included: Mamdou Samake, director of the Peace Corps language school; Gaoussou Mariko, former PC language teacher and now Cultural Affairs Assistant at the US Embassy; Moussa Sissoko, former PC language teacher, and current superintendent of Education for the region of Kati, and his wife and kids; Brahima Ouologuem, a friend who I worked with at Plan International, who is now a PC language teacher; Idrissa Coulibaly, who also works at the US Embassy, and his wife and kids; and of course my friends from Banamba, Sambou and Haina and their daughter Mah Traore and her daughter Kadidiatou. Also, five of the women who I worked with in the women's cooperative in Bamako, La Paysanne came to the party. This is where I met Maria, as she was the Associate Director, and my role was to help this group become the first independent women's NGO in Mali. Many good times were had! Here is a picture of all of us together.

Before dinner, the dance group from Maria's school, Chi Wara performed a few numbers. They were wonderful, especially since we had gotten to know many of the girls during our time staying with Maria. Many were her nieces and other girls who she has adopted and who stay with her. The dancing was fantastic.

Then, we all feasted! After dinner, it was my moment to thank everyone. I had written a speech in English, and with Brahima, I had translated it into Bambara. In Mali, you don't really give speeches as we do in the states. Rather, you always have your griot next to you. You tell the griot something, and then the griot communicates it to the community. So, Cheik Kumar Coulibaly, who is Maria's associate director, offered to be my griot. I was really nervous, as it had been a while since I had done any public speaking in Bambara; but I didn't want to miss this opportunity to share with all my karamogow ("teachers"), how much I have learned from them, and how life-changing their lessons have been for me. And of course, how wonderful it is to now be sharing this all with Naomi, Alex, and Maya. (I've posted the letter as a separate blog, so you can read it there). After my speech, Naomi came up, and with Maria acting as her griote, gave a beautiful speech, thanking everyone, and saying how wonderful it was to come to Mali and not see lots of little 20 year-old "Madu Diarras" running around! She was awesome!

Then, the musical Grande Finale started. Maria's youngest son "Kumanjan" has a Bambara rap group. They are DJs at parties throughout the area, and have a pretty big local following. They use lots of American rap elements, but the songs are in Bambara and the social messages are all relevant to current Malian society. So, without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, captured live from Kati, here is "DJ KJ:"

Sweetest Birthday Cake

By 10:00pm, the compound was still packed! But Maria made another wonderfully appropriate announcement, saying that it is better to stop when you are still having fun, than to overdo the joy. So, pretty soon, most of the invitees and neighbors had left, and only the family (all 20-some members of Maria's extended family) and my friend Idrissa Coulibaly and his family were there. So, it was officially time for the birthday cake. I know, this looks like a regular, ordinary birthday cake, but considering that they don't really do cakes in Mali, this was extra-special. Maria ordered it in Bamako, from a baking school. People were just blown away. And everyone, even the adults, had seconds! Even with seconds, we only were able to finish half of the cake, and so the other half was saved for our departure, which was the next day! I couldn't help but reflect on all of those Costco sheet cakes that we've seen at celebrations, and how I have come to take them for granted. Well, this was one cake that definitely brought smiles to dozens of peoples faces. (The words on the cake say: "May god keep us all together. Madu 50 years old")

What a party! All I can say is: buh, buh, buh, buh, buuuhhhhh! (Bambara expression for disbelief.) The biggest bummer was that you all weren't there to celebrate with us! We missed you!!!

Love to y'all. Blog ya later.

Madu./.

Mali Joy!

A ja tay say ka fo ka ban! (Words just can't express the joy.)

As we were just planning this trip, I remember talking to someone about the possibility of going back to Mali. In a moment of deep, honest, un-edited expression, I remember saying something like: "Going back to Mali gives me the chance to tie-up a major loose thread in my life. Once Naomi and the girls have been there and experienced the warmth and wealth of the Malian family, then it won't matter if I get hit by a bus! The torch will have been passed."

Well, the torch has been passed. I had incredibly high expectations for this trip. Reconnecting with old friends and family. Introducing Naomi and the girls. Exploring ideas about integrating service learning in rural Malian bi-lingual education classes. Celebrating my 50th birthday. AND, the trip surpassed all expectations. We spent the first week with my colleague and big sister Maria Diarra in Kati, just outside the capital Bamako. There, we visited her school, became a part of her extended family, and visited a few other projects and schools in the area. We also got to spend some time with another Fulbrighter, Rosemary Traore and her family. Then, we took a 5-day trip north. First to Djenne (home to the largest adobe structure in the world -the Mosque of Djenne), then to the Dogon plateau, and finally to Segou, the historic capital of the Malian empire. Finally, we came back to Kati, where we had the birthday bash to end all birthday bashes (more on that later).

San mugan ni kelen tay tilay mugan ni kelen deh! (Twenty-one years is not twenty-one days!).

Two weeks of highs! Where do I start? This was truly the trip of a lifetime. It had been twenty-one years since I left Mali; but amazingly my Bamanankan (the local language spoken by most people in Mali) came back as if it was yesterday. More importantly, reconnecting with people after nearly a quarter of a century, was incredible. Mah Traore, the 2-year old daughter of Sambou and Haina Coulibaly is now married, and has a 2-year old of her own, Kadidiatou. Baba Traore, who was a high school biology student living with us in Banamba, is now principal of his own private school, "Ecole Sirido Baba" (the tiny farming hamlet that he comes from is called Sirido). Moussa Sissoko, one of my Peace Corps bamanankan teachers is now the director of education for the region of Kati; and Gaoussou Mariko, another Peace Corps teacher is now working at the US embassy. Here are a couple before and after pictures, to give you a sense of what 25 years looks like:

Left: Sambou with his daughter Mah Traore, and my Peace Corps buddy Yakuba (1985). Right: Sambou and his granddaughter, Kadidiatou (2008).

And here we all are looking at old pictures on the computer: (from left to right: Haina, Sambou, Seth, Mah Traore, Kafineh, and Alex in the back).

Left: Baba Traore and Haina in front of our home in Banamba (1986). Right: Baba Traore and Seth in front of Baba's school (2008).

Left: Peace Corps teachers in 1982 (Moussa Sissoko is on the far right). Right: In Moussa Sissoko's living room in Kati (from l to r: Alex, Naomi, Moussa, Moussa's wife, Maria, Seth and Maya). (2008).

Things have changed in Mali in the past 25 years. Cell phones are everywhere, and you can get coverage throughout the country, even in Timbuktou! In 1987, there was only 1 paved road, running north-south, connecting Mali to the Ivory Coast. Now, there are many paved highways, connecting Mali to Senegal on the west, Guinea on the South-west, and Niger on the east. Also, as Alex and Maya found out, styles have changed. In preparation for the trip, I told them not to pack jeans or shorts, as I said that girls, especially proper girls, did not wear such items! WRONG!!! Truly, with regard to Malian fashion, I am a "man of the '80s." While Malian women do wear beautiful traditional clothes, they also wear shorts and jeans. Sorry Maya!

So, this is the first of my Malian blogs. Just to break the ice. I'll end with this last picture from our trip north with Brahima Ouologuem. He and I worked together in Banamba, and when my mother visited in 1986, he accompanied us on a similar trip to Djenne and the Dogon Plateau. Now, 21 years later, he is working as a Dogon teacher for Peace Corps, and was able to join us again on our trek north. He is now married --2 wives and 10 kids-- but that's a story for later. Here we are on the banks of the Niger in Segou.

Blog ya later.

Madu (Seth)./.

An taara Mali la! (We've gone to Mali)...

Tomorrow we leave for our 2-week trip to Mali. You'd think it was just around the corner, afterall, we are in Africa. But, to get to Mali from Cape Town, we fly 2 hours to Johannesburg, then 9 hours to Dakar, and then 2 hours to Bamako (after spending the night in the airport). This is one big continent...

For those who don't know, I lived in Mali for 5 years from 1982 to 1987 as a Peace Corps volunteer, and then as country director for the American Friends Service Committee. This will be my first time back since then, and I can't tell you how much this means to me. Afterall, when I left Mali, Madu Diarra (my Bambara name) was just a young, single buck. Not much social status in Malian society. But now, Madu is coming back as a real person, with a wife (though only one) and kids. Now, Madu is a somebody.

We'll be staying with my Malian big sister, Maria Diarra, who is the director of an NGO called "Institute for Popular Education." Here is their website: http://www.h-net.org/~ibrahimd/iep/index.html IEP works with schools to help students learn to read and write in their own language. In Mali, the official language, and the language of schooling, is French. But, IEP helps students transition into French by starting to learn to read and write in their own language, and with material that is based in their own culture: Bamanankan, Fula, Songhai, etc. Maria is doing some very exciting work. Here is a website that talks about their project: http://sites.google.com/site/malibooksproject/

This is really a dream come true. In addition to visiting with Maria, we'll be visiting a school that a friend is now the principal of, and also visiting the family that I lived with in Banamba, two hours north of Bamako. Finally, we hope to travel up-country to visit Djenne and Mopti.

And oh yes, I'll be there for my 50th birthday. There will surely be a fete happening, so if you hear the furious rhythmic sound of drums on December 20th, just smile and know that Madu Diarra is turning 50!

As there isn't great internet connectivity in Mali, not sure how much blogging we'll be doing. So, perhaps this will be

it for a couple of weeks. We will be coming back to Cape Town on 22 December.

Blog ya then. K'an ben (see you later).
Madu Diarra (a.k.a., Seth )

A Cape Town Wildlife Adventure

So, we woke up the other morning to some honking. And it wasn't a car. But it wouldn't stop, and it was 5:30 in the morning. Finally, Naomi got out of bed and went outside to check, and said, "They're back!" Well, it turns out that the previous evening, we heard a similar honking, and when we went outside we saw a large Egyptian goose, pacing back and forth near the pool, honking. We didn't know what the commotion was about, until we spotted three little gooslings swimming in the pool. It turns out, mom knows how to get in and out of the pool, but the kiddies don't! Begin round one of wildlife rescue! I got the pool net and gently scooped up the babies and helped them out of the pool! Success!

The next morning, they were back. And this time, we were able to catch all the exciting action on film. Enjoy.

Seth./.

A couple of views of a day at the beach

A Successful "Die Burger"
So, today was a very eventful day. Naomi and I both participated in "Die Burger," a cycle race that starts and ends in Stellenbosch, a beautiful town in the heart of the Afrikaner heartland about 45 minutes from Cape Town. This was our first race, and a prep for our March 8 "Argus." Naomi, as part of her "training wheels" group, did the 46 km ride, and I did the 98 km ride. We were happy to just finish, but here are our official times:

Naomi (46 km) // Seth (98 km)
Time 2:05:07 // 3:37:36
Overall 512th out of 1052 // 2095th out of 3599
Gender 141st out of 392 // 1831st out of 2929
Age Group 17th out of 47 // 160th out of 272

Who said 2095th is not something to be proud of! It was a gorgeous day, but unfortunately, we forgot the camera. So, you'll just have to take our word for it!


Different Views on a Day at the Beach: Hout Bay and Llandudno
BUT, I want to reflect on last Sunday. That was the day that Maya's 6th grade class was having a picnic on the beach in Llandudno. Llandudno is just over the hill from us. Driving west, we crest the mountain at "Constantianek" and then come down the hill to Hout Bay --a beautiful beach town with great restaurants and a slight counter-culture feel. Then, from Hout Bay, you drive north over a hill, and come to this gorgeous, little beach town called "Llandudno." Here's a picture:
Well, we had a fantastic morning on the beach: playing rugby with Maya's teacher and her classmates (including her American visiting student teaching, Mr. Jacob from Michigan), taking a very cold dip in the Atlantic, and soaking in some beautiful sunshine. It was a great day.

But, things weren't so nice for other folks just over the hill in Hout Bay. It turns out that on Friday, two days before our visit, a fire broke-out in the Hout Bay township (yes, every gorgeous town here has an not-so-gorgeous township, with shacks crowded one an another, dirt roads, and minimal services --electricity, but no piped water, except for at a few communal spigots). This fire completely destroyed 250 shacks. That means 1,000 people were homeless, and lost everything that they had, except the clothes on their back. On Saturday, the day after the fire, the government was handing out "shack starter kits," which includes lumber and tin sheets for the roof. As we drove through town on our way home from the beach on Sunday, we saw a number of people carrying tin and wood up the hill, to begin the rebuilding process. (Addendum: I just heard on the radio that 2000 additional people are homeless, from 3 different fires that swept through 3 townships in and around Cape Town. Clearly, this is a significant problem.)

Well, on Monday morning, things got crazy. It turns out, a number of families had started to build their new shacks, not on their old spots, but on empty land that been designated for a new affordable housing development, still in the works (that's a whole nother story! Often, these projects take forever, and expectations rise leading to anger and frustration). So, when people had the chance to rebuild, they stretched their property lines a bit, and were building on the land that was to become the new development. Well, first thing Monday morning, the police came by and made them take everything down. Before you knew it, there were gun shots, and a number of people were hurt. Police claimed they were fired upon with guns and flares. The residents claimed the police started the shooting. As a protest, the residents started burning tires on the road, to keep the police out of the neighborhood. Here is a picture from the Cape Times, the next morning:

As I shared the picture, and the story, with colleagues at UWC and UCT, their comments were very telling. For one, the picture took them back to the 1980s, when these kinds of tire-burning protests were almost a daily occurrence. Community protests to keep the police OUT of a neighborhood, and try to reclaim some space. As I spoke about how I felt strange having spent a luciously relaxing time at the beach, only minutes away from this tension and struggle, she said: "I can remember a time, not too long ago, when people weren't allowed on the beach! It is amazing we've come this far!"

It just shows you how our perspective, without the history, is so different. The fact that anyone can go onto the beach in Llandudno IS a major accomplishment. Yes. But in reality, who is really using the beach? You don't see many black families on the beach. Especially when they are busy building, rebuilding, staking a claim to space, and still protesting for a decent quality of life. Maybe that's why this picture is so powerful. It was taken by Maya's teacher. Some of her classmates on the beach. The new South Africa, in the process of being born. Without the history, we might not appreciate the significance of this image. Blog ya later.

Seth./.

Cycling Past (and into) History

Yesterday, two bike-riding mates and I did a practice 100 km ride on the "Die Burger" route. Next Sunday, we'll be riding the route in the real "Die Burger" race, which will give us a seeding time for the big Cape Argus race on March 8. We'll be among 8,000 others in the on the route through the winelands around Stellenbosch. Yesterday was nice, just us three!


It was a gorgeous day, blue sky and no wind. We started at 6:30 am, and were able to stop along the way and take some pics. After the first climb over "Hells Hoogte" (Hell's Heights"), we had a beautiful ride through the vineyards and villages, through Pniel, Fraschoek, and Paarl. Then we turned a corner, and we were at Drackenstein Prison. This is where Nelson Mandela was held for the last couple of years of his imprisonment, and the place from which he was eventually released. In August 2008, this statue was placed at the entrance.

We stopped to take pictures, and as we did, a guard came out to tell us that we weren't allowed to stand on the sculpture. He said that this was an important monument that we needed to respect, so that generations of South Africans could come and appreciate it. His demeanor was appropriately stern and serious. We apologized and thanked him, and then he showed us the inscription on the side of the monument. Quotes from Mandela.

Pretty powerful.

But, we couldn't leave without a moment of solidarity.

Amandela.

The rest of the ride was wonderful from a training standpoint. We finished the 100 ks in 4 hours and 29 seconds, which was just what we had hoped, though no world record. Now we know the route, we know all the hills, and so we'll be ready for next Sunday's race. Also, we won't need to stop and take pictures then. Though as we ride by, I'll surely give a raised fist in solidarity.

I love this quote from the sculpture, and think it is worth repeating:

"For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains,

but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others."

-Mandela

Blog ya later.

Seth./.

Mikey's Train and Springbok vs. Protea Redux

Here are a couple of stories that will connect back to earlier blogs.

So, Where's the Train to Mikey's Fontain (see November 10)
So, when I came back to work from our weekend at Mikey's Fontein, I of course told everybody about our trip. One of my colleagues at UCT, Janice, said: "But how did you get back? Did you take the train? I've been wanting to go to Mikey's Fontein for an overnight, but when I call to get information from the train, they tell me there's no return train until Tuesday. How did you get back?"

Well, I told her all about the train trip, and the daily service that connects Johannesburg and Cape Town, stopping in Mikey's. Seemed pretty basic to me. But Janice insisted that when she's called to get information about the train, they tell her she has to come back on Tuesday.

So, I said I'd call Ross, the man who organized the weekend, and get all the scoop. And, I'd even have Ross give her a call with the details. So, I called Ross. Now mind you, Ross is a "fontein" of information on travel in South Africa. He is our #1 trip advisor, knows all the cool spots, and has yet to let us down. He's also world's #1 braai-meister! So I call Ross, and he says: "That's funny, because I also had trouble finding out about the train back from Mikey's Fontein. Whenever I called the train company, they would tell me that the only return train is on Tuesday. And then I would call the hotel in Mikey's, and they would say that there's a train every day. So, I finally called back the train folks, and told them that the folks at Mikey's say that there is a train returning to Cape Town every day at 10:00 am. And they say, 'Oh yeah. There is a train every day at 10:00 am. But that is the third class train.' "

So check this out. When you call up the state-run train agency, and you ask in a nice pleasan "white" voice, you are told "no train." Why? Because the assumption is that you wouldn't be interested in the third class train. The assumption is that third class train is only for blacks. Wait a minute, didn't apartheid end 14 years ago? Isn't this now a new multicultural democracy? Yes, but even though formal rules change, cultural norms and accents, are much more slow to change. So, is there a train to Mikey's Fontain? That depends...

Springbok vs. Protea Decision, Finally (See October 10)
Well, after six weeks of nearly non-stop debate, the South African Rugby Association announced yesterday that they had reached a compromise with the national sports federation. As you might recall, the rugby team was the only national team that didn't adopt the post-apartheid emblem, "The Protea." Rather, they held on to the apartheid-era symbol "The Springbok." For many white-South Africans, the Springbok is a huge symbol of national pride, as the Springboks have won two World Cup Championships, and are the current champions. Well, for black-South Africans, the "Bok" represents white oppression, and the latent (sometimes blatant) racism that exists in the sport.

So, over the past weeks the debate has raged in the papers and in the bars. Proteas or Springboks? Even Archbishop Desmond Tutu weighed in. The conversation was made even more complicated by the fact that Mandela wore the Springbok jersey at the celebration for their first world cup win in 1995 -one year after democracy! So, many people have interpreted this as Mandela giving his tacit approval to keep the Bok alive in the name of national unity.

Things got even more inense when one white South African rugby star, whose parents had been active in the anti-apartheid movement, said that he wanted to "vomit on the Springbok jersey." Needless to say, he was not included on the team that is now touring England

So, the final verdict is a compromise, which is surely not going to please anyone. The decision was to move the Springbok from the left to the right side of the jersey, and to make the Protea the dominant symbol. However, the name Springbok will still be able to be used for marketing and team spirit purposes

Here's how it was reported in the New Zealand Herald, a current Rugby powerhouse:

"The century-old Springbok emblem of South African rugby that has been a source of pride to some and alienation to others is to be displaced by the country's national flower. South African Rugby Union bosses told sports minister Makhenkesi Stofile today that they would comply with incoming legislation obliging national teams to wear the King Protea emblem on the left side of the jersey. Stofile said the Springbok symbol won't be axed completely, although its size and position on the jersey are still to be finalised. "The minister also advised us that the commercial emblem of national sporting federations - in rugby's case, the Springbok - can be utilised as federations deem fit, so long as that use does not compromise the national emblem," SARU president Oregan Hoskins said in a statement. Hoskins will convene a special meeting December 1 to determine the details on the new emblem, which is already used in other sports."

Surely, more to come on this one.

Blog ya later.
Seth./.

Saturday Morning Cycling

OK, so we are not hardbodies yet. And, Lance Armstrong doesn't have to worry about us overtaking him on the hill climb. But, we are having a blast on our bicycles and becoming somewhat regulars with the Saturday morning Cycle Lab club. We're meeting people, getting exercise, and seeing some amazing scenery as we peddle up and down the hills of the Southern Cape. Naomi and I are both training for the Cape Argus (the largest bike race in the world, 35,000 riders), which is a 68 mile ride around the Cape on March 8. Here is the web-site for the ride. Though the race is closed to South Africans, it's still open to foreigners. Wanna ride: http://www.cycletour.co.za/

Naomi is loving her bike. We bought it used from the same guy who sold me my bike, but we bought it when the Rand was 11.2 to the dollar, and not 7.5 to the dollar. So she got lots more bike than I did. She also signed up for a training program sponsored by our gym and the cycle club. It is for folks who are doing their first Cape Argus. While its a little too basic (designed for people who have never really been on a bike, and never really exercised), Naomi is sticking with it, and she is going to be an expert when it is over.

The Medium-Medium Group
I've posted some photos from our ride yesterday. Each Saturday, there are three rides (long, medium, and short) and then 3 different groups for each ride (fast, medium, and slow). I've settled in with a nice group who do the "Medium-Medium" ride. Yesterday, the "Medium-Medium" ride was 60 km, over Red Hill (with a gorgeous view of Simon's Town in the background), then over Slangkop to a gorgeous lighthouse in a place called Kommetjie, and then back over Ou Kaapse Weg (Old Cape Road) to the bikeshop. It was a perfect day, with a little breeze blowing.

But, the best part of the day is the "after ride." Everyone gathers outside for coffee, courtesy of the bike club. So, we get to sit outside, have a little breakfast, share stories and just soak in all the good energy. Definitely, we'll be ready by March 8!

I never thought biking would be a big part of our year in Africa. Never say never! YES WE CAN!

Blog ya later.
Seth./.

40th Birthday Weekend in Matjiesfontein (pronounced "Mikey's Fontain")

So, I'll take a break from gushing about the incredible Obama effect for a moment, and tell you about our trip to the most unusual town in South Africa, or perhaps the most unusual townin all of Africa: Matjiesfontein (pronounced "Mikey's Fontain.")

But first just another moment of gushing about the election. It is amazing how the impact of the election is having a trickle down effect on young people here in Cape Town. I was wearing my OBAMA button the other day, and a young clerk in a store said, "I wasn't going to vote before, but now I see how it can make a difference. So I'm going to register this weekend." (South Africa had a huge voter registration drive this past weekend, with 17,900 registration places set up across the country.) Amazing how the election in the US can have an impact on the choices of a young kid in Cape Town. Another dimension of globalization.

A Bit of History about "Mikey's Spring"

"Fontein" in Afrikaans means "spring," and "Mikey's Spring" is a town on the railroad line half-way between Cape Town and the diamond mines in Kimberly. Back in the 1870s, a beautiful Victorian hotel was built there, and it quickly became a favorite getaway spot for the well-healed --the height of British colonial elegance. Mikey's is in the middle of the "Little Karoo," a very dry high desert region, which reminded us a lot of New Mexico. The air is dry and clean, and so Mikey's became known as a spa retreat, where you could come and heal from the stresses of the city. (The Little Karoo is now known for its lamb, which is said to have a special flavor, the result of the sheep grazing on the Karoo vegetation!)

Anyway, this hotel was the state of the art, 100 years ago. The first cricket match between England and South Africa was played there. Cecil Rhodes liked to spend weekends there, soaking in the good air. During the Anglo-Boer war, it became a hospital for British soldiers. In fact, this was such a well-known place, that there is an old Afrikaner folk song called: "Take the train to Matjiesfontein," and here are the lyrics so you can practice up on your Afrikaans:

Daar’s ‘n trein toe toe toe toe toe toe

Daar’s ‘n trein toe toe toe toe toe toe

Daar’s ‘n trein toe toe toe toe toe toe

Die trein na Matjiesfontein

Well, all good things come to an end; even British colonial elegance in the heart of South Africa. And over the years, the place fell into dis-repair, and was abandoned. Then, in the 1970s, the entire town (hotel, bar, coffee shop, museum, and post office) was bought by a famous local hotel owner, and Mikey's experienced a re-birth. You can get all the scoop at their web-site: http://www.matjiesfontein.com/

A Birthday Weekend in Mikey's
We were invited by our friends Ross and Veronica Grant to join 8 other couples in celebrating Veronica's 40th birthday in Mikey's. The plan was as follows: meet downtown at the train station in Cape Town on Saturday morning; take the train 5 1/2 hours to Mikey's; tour the town, have fun, eat a scrumptious dinner featuring "little Karoo lamb"; spend the night at the once-luxurious Lord Milner Hotel; wake up to a leisurely breakfast; and then take the train back, arriving in Cape Town Sunday afternoon.

What could be better: no driving, no designated drivers, and no kids! This was going to be especially exciting for Naomi and I. Not only had we never been to Mikey's, but this would be our first weekend without the kids. (Alex and Maya stayed with Veronica's kids, and didn't miss us a bit!)

Needless to say, we had a blast. Mikey's is like a ghost town, just waiting to come alive with the good energy of its weekend visitors. Everything is a little dusty and mildewy, but nothing a gin & tonic and some line dancing can't cure! We virtually had the entire town to ourselves. There were two other couples there at dinner, so they got to participate in our boisterous happy birthday singing. And while we were celebrating with song and good cheer in the bar, we were visited by a train-load of high-end German tourists who had gotten off the luxury "Rovos Rail" train, came into the bar, and found us all gathered around the piano, singing folks songs (both Afrikaner and American) and dancing. They got out their cameras, and must have surely thought that this was what the locals do every weekend! (We took the regular train, which is an overnighter that runs from Cape Town to Johannesburg. Our tickets cost around $8 for the 5 1/2 hour trip. The luxury "Rovos Rail" costs $1,000/day!) Oh yes, a few local families did come to the restaurant for breakfast, but otherwise, it was just us for the night at Mikey's.

I've posted just a few pictures to wet your imagination. Let's just say, South Africans truly know how to have fun! Maybe Naomi and I will bring a little of the spirit back to our own chavurah gatherings. And as they say, what happens in Mikey's, stays in Mikey's.

Enjoy the photos. Blog ya later.

Seth./.

Dawn of a New Era: President Obama Greets Cape Town

Election Morning at the U.S. Consul General's Home
We forced ourselves to go to sleep on Election Night at 11:00 pm, knowing that we would need to get up around 4:00 in the moring to catch the action with the polls closing. 4:00 am Cape Town is 9:00 pm in New York, so we knew that by then, the results of the election would be coming in. We woke up to some pretty good news, with Obama grabbing the early lead on the East Coast. We quickly woke the girls (not a pleasant scene), got dressed and into the car to go over to the Consulate Generale's house for the "Election Day Breakfast Party." We got there around 5:30, and found around 150 other Americans and Capetonians gathered around a number of large screen TVs, and a row of computer screens scattered throughout the residence. The house was decked out with lots of red, white and blue bunting and election paraphanalia, including life sized cut-ous of both McCain and Obama.

Of course, there was also an awesome breakfast spread. We made our way outside, and parked ourselves in front of one of the big screens. The girls went off to search out the fruit salads and the muffins, and Naomi and I hunkered in to watch the results come in. By around 7:00 am, they just predicted that Virginia went to Obama, and then right after that, the polls officially closed in California and they made the call: OBAMA IS THE NEXT PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES.

It was an amazing feeling. We were in tears for the next couple of hours, not believing what we were experiencing. I knew I cared, but I didn't think I would be this emotional. It was only then that I realized how much pain I've been in for the past eight years, having our country be led by someone who I have absolutely no respect for, and worse, someone who has done such damage to our standing in the world, someone who has brought so much pain to so many. Thankfully, those days were almost over.

It was truly an amazing scene to be part of. Truly historic. And sitting on a hill looking over the city of Cape Town coming alive in the early morning light, you really felt that this was the dawning of a new day. I'm sure the girls will have no problem remembering where they were when...

The Pollacks in the Media Spotlight
I guess we were a bit photogenic sitting in front of the TV as a family, sobbing. Naomi and I were in tears, and Maya was in tears from her hay-fever --but it looked good. Anyway, a reporter from the local on-line news service "News24.com" asked us if she could interview us. So I went off to do a quick interview between the sobs. Some of my statements made it into this article, which I think you'll enjoy (sorry Mom for calling you a "conservative," but I took a little artistic license): http://www.news24.com/News24/South_Africa/News/0,,2-7-1442_2421320,00.html

Also, even though my interview ended up on the cutting-room floor, here is a link to the video of the breakfast at the Consul Generale's home. You can get a good feel for the scene, and if you watch closely all the way to the end (when the speaker of the South African parliament is talking), you'll get a shot of the "sobbing Pollacks" --all four of us!



http://www.24.com/news/2008/code/US_elections_results_300k.htm

YES WE CAN! YES WE DID!

The dawining of a new day, not just for America, but truly, for the world.

Blog ya later.

Seth./.

Riding the O-BA-MA Wave into the Heartland --AFRICA!

So, with less than a week to go until the election, I thought I’d reflect on this phenomenon of O-BA-MA in Africa. Since we’re not able to join our friends back home campaigning, phone banking, and attending rallies, we’ve had to resort to a bumper sticker and button campaign. Both our cars are carrying Obama bumper stickers, and for the past few weeks, I am rarely seen without an “Obama YES WE CAN” button. The reaction has been amazing. When we go shopping or out to dinner, the car-park attendants inevitably see the bumper sticker and say, “O-BA-MA, YES!” This often is followed by a spirited conversation about how the world needs a change, and how O-BA-MA will not just be good for America, but for the world as well.

What’s really nice about this, is that its such a great conversation starter with folks who are otherwise, pretty invisible –the car-park guys. Wherever you go in South Africa, there are guys in fluorescent green vests, ready to help you park your car, and then keep watch over it while you are off doing your shopping, eating, coffee-ing, or whatever. Then, when you come back, you give them some money (anywhere between 2 and 10 Rand, or 20 cents - $1) for their effort. These guys are everywhere, but you rarely see anyone talking with them. Rather, just a little eye contact as you walk back to your car indicates that you’re ready to offer up some money. Then, after the eye contact, they come over and you put the coins in their hand, which they then usually bring to their heart, saying: “thank you sir” or “thank you captain” or “thank you boss.”

What’s nice, is that with the O-BA-MA sticker, we now have something to talk about; something that doesn’t just put the car-park guys in the typical subservient role of thanking you for your spare change. Its amazing what I’ve learned. Many of the guys have come to South Africa from neighboring countries, like Zimbabwe, Democratic Republic of the Congo, or Angola. Many are well-educated and have degrees. (Just the other day, Naomi met a guy from the DRC who has a business degree!) And most have a pretty sophisticated understanding of global politics and the power and influence of America (which is what most folks call the U.S.ofA.). And it is not always very complimentary. But, when they just say “O-BA-MA” with a variety of southern African lilts, a big smile comes across their face, and their eyes twinkle. There's hope in their voice. There's dignity in their smile. There's possiblity in their eyes. It is so cool! (It’s actually just the opposite of what it looks like when they say “BUSH” –usually accompanied by a sneer, and the shaking of the head, as if to say, “that SoB…”)

So, just as the bumper sticker has been a great ice breaker with the car park guys, wearing the button has sparked many a great conversation in town and on campus. Students see the button and say, "you for O-BA-MA?" And that is the beginning of a wonderfully engaging, hope-filled conversation. What a way to connect with people! There’s so much racial baggage and tension in this society, that wearing the O-BA-MA button has been a great distinguishing marker for me. I've hoped that it has been shorthand to express who I am and what I care about. Maybe I’ve even grown a bit dependent on it, knowing that the button can help distinguish me from the rest of the whiteys walking around town. Hope I don't get too lazy, and too comfortable riding the O-BA-MA wave, and stop putting in the work that is required to merit wearing the button!

Boy, it will be so nice to once again be proud of our leadership. To know that they are in touch with the pulse of the world –and not listening to the voices in their own heads! To know that they have a sense of the complex world that we live in, and a vision for the type of collaborative leadership that we are so desperately in need of.

So everybody, get out and vote for GLOBAL CHANGE! O-BA-MA! And don’t forget that big smile and the eye twinkle.

Blog ya later.

Seth./.

p.s. We were invited over to the United States Consulate Generale's house on 5 November starting at 5:00 am to watch the election returns. We're definitely going. The invitation said: "come join us for this history-making occassion." Let's hope we will be making the right kind of history! O-BA-MA (twinkle, twinkle)...

Homelessness in Cape Town

At CSUMB, I teach a service learning course called "Hunger and Homelessness," where are students work in a number of homeless shelters in the Monterey County area. Through that class, I got involved with the transformation of Soledad Street in Salinas (the "mecca" for homeless in Monterey County", which has led to our work in the "Chinatown Renewal Project." http://76.12.244.136/services/redevelopment/pdf/Chinatown_Plan.pdf According to the 2007 Monterey County homeless Census, around 50% of the 3,766 homeless in Monterey County can be found in Salinas, mostly in the Chinatown area. For our region, this is a significant issue.

OK, now, are you sitting down? Check out these stats for Cape Town. They came from an article in the Cape Times, writtenby Gerry Adlard who is doing his PhD at the African Centre for Cities at UCT. Check out these numbers:

* 150,000: the number of households living in "informal settlements" (this means shanty towns, without plumbing, etc.)
* 250,000: the number of households currently on the waiting list for housing (residing illegally in backyard shacks in "formal" settlements/townships
* 3.3: estimated number of people per household
* 1.2 million: estimated number of people living either in shacks in informal settlements, or backyard shacks.

So, out of 3 million people in Cape Town, the estimate is that 1.2 million are basically "homeless," living in these informal settlements or shanty towns, in shacks without a toilet or running water. That is 40% of the total population of the city! And of those families living in the "informal settlements," 91% are living below the poverty line ($320/month of family income).

So, how is Cape Town planning to get 400,000 people into homes, especially before the start of the World Cup soccer tournament in July 2010? Good question! Since democracy in 1994, Cape Town has been able to build about 8,000 new "low-income" homes per year. The process of getting access to new land, getting people to agree to move to temporary locations, and getting the homes built has just taken a lot longer (and cost a lot more) than they had thought.

As the months go by, change is slow to happen, and the 1.2 million people living in these shacks struggle to survive through floods in the rainy season, and all-too-frequent fires --people use candles and lanterns for light and cook use wood to cook and keep warm, so there are frequent fires that destroy lives and livelihoods. This is a picture of the aftermath of a recent fire in the informal settlement that I pass each morning on my way to work, called "Joe Slovo" (named: after a famous South African struggle leader).

The scope of the homeless issue here in Cape Town is enormous, and yet, the South African constitution has made housing a fundamental human right! That means that everyone has a right to a home. What a juxtaposition: an incredibly progressive constitution, and an unbelievably harsh reality. Adlard estimates that it will take at least $10 billion to address the housing issue in Cape Town alone! Well, the U.S. investing $700 billion to the banks who got greedy in trying to make money off the housing market. Maybe a $10 billion investing in housing is the way to go!

Blog ya later.

Seth./.

Reflective Dentist

Tuesday night we were having fish tacos for dinner, and I was crunching on a tortilla chip (yes, you can find them here!), when a big chunk of a molar cracked off, leaving a huge gaping hole. We got the number of a local dentist from our friends, and first thing in the morning I called. Luckily, the dentist had a cancellation that afternoon, so by 2:00 pm, I found myself sitting in that all-too-familiar position: laying down, head back, staring into that opaque light, my mouth full of rubber-gloved, exploring fingers and pokey tools.

It is always hard to have a conversation at the dentist office, especially once the dentist begins to work. For some reason, this dentist, who was about my age, was especially chatty. Maybe it was the "OBAMA 08" bumper sticker on my car that got him going, because he was asking me all kinds of questions about the election, and the possibility that America just might elect a black president. He still couldn't imagine that it could be possible! He then spoke about the article in yesterday's paper that showed that the University of Cape Town was now ranked 179th in the world! That's right, there are world rankings for universities. And it seems that UCT climbed from 196th to 179th since 2007. He was very proud of that accomplishment, especially since UCT was the only African university in the top 200. I asked him where he did his training, and he said that he went to Stellenbosch University, a traditionally elite Afrikans university. I hadn't told him a thing about what I do, and he voluntarily started to remember that:

"Back then, it was an all-white university. We even shared a building with UWC, the "coloured university," but we were totally separate. In fact, all the systems were duplicated. We had 3 floors in this building, and they had 3 floors, with all the equipment duplicated. And we didn't interact at all! And we all trained at Tygerberg Hospital, but we never interacted there either. The hospital had two sides, mirror images of each other: one was for the whites, and the other for everyone else. You know, when I talk to my kids about those days, they can't believe it! And you know, from my vantage point now, I almost can't believe that we lived like that and that it seemed normal. While there were some activists, most of us didn't question it. It was just how things were!"

Well luckily, he hadn't really begun the grinding, but was still just poking around. And so, I was able to respond. I said, "It's somewhat frightening, how easy it is for us humans to accept such bizarre realities as normal. What twisted, pretzel logic for that set-up to seem normal. Not to mention, it is incredibly inefficient --duplicating dental training in two neighboring, yet totally disconnected facilities. But somehow, if we're not really intimately and personally aware of the injustices that are going on, it seems pretty easy for people to justify, even if it is just quiet acceptance, the cushy, preferential treatment that they receive. The unawareness is almost blissful."

It turns out, he has two boys 17 and 14, who he feels are receiving a completely different education, and one that is really preparing them for a different, multicultural world. I sure hope he is right.

It took over an hour (story-telling included) for him to fix my tooth. But when I left, I had a beautifully-repaired molar, a great story to share, and had to pay exactly 877 Rand --or about $92. What a deal!

Blog ya later.
Seth./.

The Power of Symbols: Springboks vs. Proteas

Which image is carrying the most baggage? The "Springbok" or the "Protea?" Thoughts?

Well, in all my days listening to "AM 567 Cape Talk Radio," I have not heard such a controversy as this. It started with today's newspaper. Front page. Almost a 2 inch headline. In fact, it was the lead story. More important than the response from the ANC Youth League to the plans announced Tuesday of the former Defense Minister and other ANC party elders to leave the ANC and form a new party. Yes, more important than the potential split of the ANC was the decision reached yesterday by a meeting of executives of the Ministry of Sport to implement a 1992 decision to require all South African national teams to be called the "Proteas." In an effort to create a more unified country, the 1992 conference decided that the apartheid era name for all national sports teams, "the Springboks," would no longer be used, and it would be replaced by the national flower, the "Proteas." The national cricket team used to be known as "the Springboks," and is now known as "the Proteas." But, the rugby team had a deep identification with "The Boks," and had held out making the change. No longer. According to Saturday's Cape Argus newspaper, the rugby team will need to change its name in time for a tour of England in a month.

Rugby as the Holy Realm of the White Male South African
It is hard for us Americans to understand the power of this. For one, we don't really have an emblem for a national sports team that competes on an international level. Did the "Dream Team" have a mascot? How about the "Ryder Cup?" I don't think so. They just play for the good ol' "stars and stripes." Secondly, we don't have a team that has had such success on an international stage. The "Boks" won the Rugby World Cup in 1995 and again in 2007. In fact, at the 1995 championship game, Mandela came out onto the "pitch" wearing a #6 Springboks jersey and hat! That was seen as a major statement of unity on his part. The police were so nervous about his appearance at the game, fearing an attack on Mandela's life, that the stadium was lined with sharp-shooters. Again, rugby was the white man's game, and the Springboks were the white man's team.

So, it is 13 years after the 1995 world cup victory. And even though Mandela had agreed to allow the team to compete in 1995 under the Springbok name, as a gesture of unity, somehow the South African Rugby Union has managed to avoid the inevitable: letting go of its racist past, and becoming part of the new South Africa and adopting the "Proteas" as the symbol. By the way, Naomi and I took a walk through Kirstenbosch gardens this morning, and saw some fine Protea specimens. We were especially taken by the "King Protea," whose picture I've attached. Now, I've got to admit that the Springbok is cute and all, and that the Protea is after all, a flower. And we are talking about the most macho of sports, rugby. But, the "King Protea" is pretty impressive...

Such Clear Division

Listening to talk radio today, I was pretty shocked at how the callers were so clearly divided along racial lines. Almost every white caller, both Afriakaner and British, said some version of "Get over it! It's only a symbol. Let's stop being distracted by this nonsense." And almost every black or "coloured" caller said some version of "It's way overdue! This sport was racist, is racist, and will continue to be racist until we make a break with this ugly past." The director of the Soweto Rugby Union was quoted in the paper as saying the "Springbok is like the Swastika in Nazi Germany."

The Power of Symbols

Now you might say, "how could such a cute little antelope have such ugly connotations?" Afterall, the Swastika is steeped in racist symbolism and ideology. The Springbok is just a cute little antelope, no? Well, I guess it depends what side of the antlers that you were on! For many South Africans (read "white"), they look at the Springbok and think of the last 13 years since the end of apartheid, and they think of two Rugby World Cups, they think of national pride, they think of coming out of isolation and competing, and winning, on the biggest international stage (next to the SOCCER world cup). For them, the Springbok is about national pride and unity. Yes, unity. Afterall, Mandela wore the Springbok jersey in 1995. (I heard a few callers make this very comment.)

For the majority of South Africans (read "not-white"), the Springbok is THE SYMBOL of apartheid oppression. It is a powerful reminder of how they were denied the right to participate in what the most powerful men in the country felt to be THE MOST IMPORTANT SOCIAL ACTIVITY. "Springbok" means a big boot on your neck. It means separation. It means division.

Probably, the closest controversy we Americans have to this, is the "Flag of Dixie." However, that was politics, nationhood, a bloody civil war. This is sport. In a way, this seems to be even deeper, as if it is the last thing that many of the white South Africans feel that they have left from the world that was. So, here's my question. Is it possible to get over our own love for something which is so clearly causing such pain for others? Is it possible for the die-hard Springbok fans to see the pain that their beloved symbol causes for others? Afterall, it is only a symbol, isn't it?

It seems this is at the core of the challenges facing this fledgling multicultural nation. When the past was so littered with symbols of oppression, what is there to build on? Ultimately, I did find this image on-line, somewhat of a hybrid: a Springbok with a Protea holding a rugby ball in the background. Maybe the image needs to be reversed: a giant King Protea, with a little tiny Springbok in the background. Or maybe we just need to "call a Springbok a Springbok," and get on with the process of building a truly united country.

Blog ya later.

Seth./.

Road Trip

So, while most Americans were following the first Obama/McCain and Biden/Palin debates, and figuring out if and how to come up with $700 BILLION to rescue our financial institutions, and most South Africans were following the intrigue surrounding the resignation of President Thabo Mbeki and the appointmen of the new President, Kgalema Mathlanthe, the Pollack Family was off on its first road trip! For a week, we didn't read a newspaper or check e-mail. We had the hardest time remembering what day it was! Wonderful. ROAD-TRIP! Now, since we don't have our Toyota Sienna van, we had to squeeze into our little baby Merc-A160. Here's what it looks like.
OK, it was only a week. But what an action packed week it was. The highlights were ostriches in Outdtshoorn, elephants in Addo, waves and beaches along the "Garden Route," and wineries and unbelievably beautiful scenery in the "Little Karoo." Check out some of the photos that I've uploaded. If you don't see any pictures of elephants, its because I'm still editing down from the 600 some pics that we have! Truly amazing... I'll follow with some more detailed blogging.

Chasing Ostriches in Oudtshoorn
Whenever you tell a South African that you are going to Oudtshoorn, they immediately say: “gonna ride an ostrich?” It turns out that about 90% of the ostriches in the world live in and around Oudtshoorn. What was once a big ostrich feather industry has now seen a resurgence as the “new healthy white meat” of choice in the region.

The drive to Oudtshoorn was beautiful, through a wine and wheat growing area known as the “Little Karoo.” Surrounded by rugged mountains, the valleys are gorgeous, dotted with beautiful vineyards and orchards and pretty towns with names like Montague and Robertson and Worcester and Barrydale. As spring is just beginning, the vineyards and orchards were alive in color, sprouting out in flowers everywhere. This made for an even more beautiful, picturesque drive. However, the shadow of apartheid is evident everywhere, even in the beautiful picturesque hills of the Little Karoo. Because, every picturesque little town, has its not so picturesque township –shacks covering the hills, dirt roads, outhouses, water spigots, and people hanging out. It is a feature of life here that we just are still not used to.

After about 5 hours of driving, and about 10 miles up a dirt road, we arrived at “Red Stone Hills,” our home for the night. It is a working farm (wheat, sheep and of course, ostriches) currently being farmed by Hermanus Pottgeiter –the 6th generation of Pottgeiters farming this land! You can’t get more traditional Afrikaner than that. His wife Petro met us when we arrived, showed us our cottage (one of 8 dotted around the property, dating back to the 1890s), introduced us to our ostrich neighbors, and then took us down the road, where we did a beautiful 2 hour sunset hike through the hills. We made it back and were introduced to the newlyweds next door --a mating pair of ostriches, sitting on 8 eggs! It turns out that the male (dark black) sits on the eggs during the night, while the female (gray) sits on the eggs during the day --perfect camoflage arrangement. We were lucky to get a picture during the transition, when the eggs were exposed.

In the morning, Alex and I took an hour horseback ride around the farm, led by one of the “boys” (ie, “farm hands”). It turns out that the farmworkers have also been there a while, in fact, Jacob our guide on the ride, was the 4th generation of his family to be working on the farm. Petro told us about their relationship with the workers. She said they are all very close with each other, attend each other’s funerals and visit each other in the hospital when someone is sick. Although, she did say that things have gotten complicated with the new laws that were passed, and so the workers are no longer housed on the property. We saw their empty homes, and wondered what the deal was. Well, it turns out that the new laws were designed to prevent families from being separated. So, if a worker family is housed on the property, any of their extended family are allowed to join them. Petro said, “before you know it, you have your own shanty town going.” Things are so difficult in the cities, that once someone is well-housed and employed, relatives flock. So, now, from Petro’s perspective, it makes more sense NOT to house the workers on the farm anymore, but rather, to pick them up each day from down the road. They now have plans to turn the workers homes into additional --and more modest-- accomodations? Interesting transition.

New Years with "Ellies"
The highlight of our trip was definitely our time in Addo National Elephant Park. We arrived on Erev Rosh Hashana, and were offered an amazing glimpse of God's creation. What a way to start 5769! Within seconds of entering the park we saw kudu, cute little warthogs, and a huge leopard tortoise. But no ellies (that is was folks affectionately call them here --no offense Mom!). Then we stumbled onto a jackal, more kudu, red hartebeast antelope, small duyker antelope, but not ellies. We even went to a "hide", a place near a water hole where you can hide and watch the action. But no action. The best thing was the sign outside the "hide." After we left the hide, another car signaled to us, that there was something interesting ahead. We drove down around the corner, and saw what looked like a kudu carcass. Wow, we thought. That wasn't so special. Then, we turned the corner, and there along the side of the road was our long awaited first Ellie! Munching a few leaves right along the side of the road. This was the real wow!


We sat there and just watched as the youngster (maybe 10 years old) munched away. Then, we drove around the corner and found the rest of the family, another 5 or 6 elephants, including a real cute youngster who was waddling along next to mama Ellie! The mama stood very still, between us and the baby, with one eye on us, and another eye on the car ahead, and her huge body keeping guard of the little one.


Well, before our two days were over, we were able to see dozens of ellies, and we must have taken hundreds of pictures! Alex got some great video, and I hope that she'll put it up on her blog. I've put a few of my favorite pictures up for you to see. Enjoy. Wish you were here with our ellies!

Blog ya later. Seth./.

Our First Braai!

Well, yesterday was an official national holiday for “National Heritage Day.” And this year, the theme for the day was “Braai” which is the South African word for Bar-B-Q. As we’ve been told, braai-ing and Bar-b-q-ing are fundamentally different, because at a braai, the focus is drinking and talking while hanging-out around the fire. Rather than using gas or charcoal brickets, the hard-core braai-ers use regular wood. So, it takes a couple of hours of fire to leave the coals just right for cooking, and it is that hanging out 'round the fire time with beer and wine and conversation that distinguishes the braai from the bar-b-q.

We decided to celebrate "National Braai Day," and invited almost every South African that we know over to the house for our first house-warming braai PARTY! Just to make sure I wouldn’t embarrass American masculinity in the process, we did a practice braai earlier in the week with a mere dozen lamb chops, and it was a huge success. It took about 1 hour for the wood to burn down to leave the perfect coals, which put out just enough heat for the lambchops. It was such a nice evening that the four of us decided to eat outside in front of the braai! It was wonderful.

Well, for “National Braai Day” we invited our mixed-heritage friends. The baker family, Michael (German) and Lara and their 3 kids. The restauranteur family, Ilana (American) and Brent and their 2 kids. Our Fulbright friends from Stellenbosch, Trevor and Jess (both American) and their 2 kids. Also, Jess’s sister and brother-in-law from Seattle were in town, so they came as well. And we also invited my colleague from UCT, Janice. And then, just to round out the affair, Alex invited two of her buddies from school, Nicole and Tarryn. So, altogether, we had 22 people for our first major braai: 28 lamb chops, 6 porter house steaks, 6 feet of “boeurwurst” (typical South African beef sausage), 24 chicken legs, and 2 chunks of “firm” tofu –yes, for our South African friends, this was their first experience with grilled tofu! We also bought a marinated Ostrich steak, but couldn’t find a place on the grill for it, so that will have to wait for next time.

So, how did it go? Well, we passed the test, I think. The meat was all cooked by 4:00pm (we started the fire at 1:30), and relatively tastey –only a few charred pieces of chicken, and some slightly overcooked lambchops. As Brent (one of only 3 full-blooded South African adults in attendance) said, he has been to many a horrible braai, and ours was definitely not horrible. I guess that is a compliment! One of the kids said that she was very impressed by our braai-skills, and that we almost looked South African!

Some of the common braai problems, that I hope we avoided, include: waiting forever for the wood to burn down enough, as the guys keep drinking beer and putting more and more wood on the fire; overcooked meat, because the meat comes off the grill and gets put into the “warming tray” where it continues to cook, and so that nice pink meat looks like shoe leather when it is eventually served; and, waiting too long to put on the food, so that the coals die down before the meat is cooked.

On the Political Front

So, while we were braaing up a storm, the National Legislature was busy preparing for the election of a new interim President to take over for Thabo Mbeki. The interim President will serve until the next elections which will happen between Jan and April next year. And while they were busy doing that, the future President and head of the ANC, Jacob Zuma was celebrating National Heritage Day in typical Zulu fashion. Here's the cover of today's "Cape Times," showing "JZ" (as some affectionately call him here) in traditional Zulu dress celebrating "National Heritage Day."

The political turmoil has been very upsetting for many. Very few people really liked the former President, but they also have less good feelings for Zuma. He is a real populist, not an intellectual, and so many in the white community are worried about what his Presidency will mean. The ANC will win 70% of the votes, so he is a lock to be the next President. The only question is what kind of policies he will pursue, and that is anybody's guess. There is really no viable opposition party, though the Democratic Alliance is getting a lot of support from the white "progressive conservative" community. It is very interesting to see this all unfold. This is a very young and fragile democracy. And with the recall of Mbeki, and numerous cabinet ministers resigning in protest, and all the in-fighting within the ANC, and all the vague references to corruption, people seem to be losing faith. There is not a lot of trust in the public institions --police, courts, ambulance and fire. Things we definitely take for granted. So, while the political transition is something that is not uncommon in Parliamentary democracies, the instability further erodes people's confidence in their already shaky state institutions. More on politics to come.

Blog ya later.

Seth./.

First Bike Ride in South Africa!!!

Last Saturday was a major day for me: my first bicycle ride in South Africa. I woke up early in order to meet the “Cycle Lab Club” at the bike shop for the appointed rendez vous at 6:30 am. I packed up my gear the night before so I could make a quick getaway, including putting the bike in the car the special way that I had been shown by Nick –the guy I had bought the bike from, who had also told me about the club-- so that I don't scratch up the interior of the car, and still can fit it in the backseat of the tiny Toyota Tazz that I drive.

I got to the shop, about 10 minutes south of our home, in plenty of time, and at 6:30 was on my bike and ready to go. About 60 riders had gathered, and the lead organizer proceeded to give instructions as to where the different groups would meet. They have 3 rides: Long (100 k or 60 miles); Medium (60 K or 40 miles); and Short (40 K or 25 miles). And for each ride, they had 3 groups: fast, medium, and slow.

As it was my first time, I went with the Medium/Medium group. There were 15 of us, and by 6:45 we were heading further south, along the coast through Muizenberg, to Simonstown, and ultimately to the entrance to the Cape Point National Park –the southern most tip of Africa, known as the “Cape of Good Hope.” Here are a couple photos of the scenery. The photo on the left is an aerial view of Simonstown, the one on the right is the Cape of Good Hope:


As the dawn awakened, it turned out to be a brilliantly beautiful day. Clear skies, a little wind, beautiful sun. And the ride was stunning, hugging the coast as we headed south on a road very similar to Highway 1. Right along the coast were pods of Right Whales, playing in the bay. Along the road there were signs saying “Don’t feed the baboons,” though I didn’t see any out on the road begging. (It turns out, baboons are a huge problem here, similar to our bear problems in the national parks. However, these animals are really bright, and it turns out that they’ve figured out how to open up car doors in search of picnic baskets! Yogi bear with a humanoid-like brain, stealing picnic baskets!)

It took us about 2 ½ hours to complete the 60 Ks. It was a fabulous ride, and I hung in there beautifully with the group, as the pace was perfect for me. I even was the pace-setter on the long climb up to the entrance to Cape Point National Park: not bad for the pudgy grey-haired American with the big belly! However, there was no red polka-dot jersey waiting for me that day. I guess you only get that when you ride with the “Long/Fast” group. I think I’ll stay with my “Medium/Mediums” for a while.

After the ride, everyone gathered at the bakery next to the club for coffee and breakfast, sharing escapades and planning the next outing. South Africans, at least those of means, are incredibly active. So, for those tri-athletes and extreme runner-racers out there, this is the place to be. Amazing scenery, and races happening every weekend somewhere.

I was so psyched at the end of the day, that I went back and signed-up for the “Cape Argus,” a 109K (66 mile) bike race that happens on March 8. It is the largest “timed bike race” in the world, with 35,000 people entered. It is supposedly an awesome ride, along the coasts and over the mountains, with entertainment the entire way, and a great party at the end. Sounds fabulous. Here's a map of the route for the race. Wanna ride?
So, need to go get some training time in! Watch out Lance…

Blog ya later.

Seth./.